


A Tiny Scrap of Honor

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Stormblood Spoilers, time to feel sorry for the bad guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25612786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	A Tiny Scrap of Honor

The castrum stank of ceruleum, of oil.

_why is every hall exactly the same, why can't I find an unlocked door_

At last a door slid open at her approach and she darted into the dark room beyond.

_I have to hide, hide me, hide me, please don't let him_

Crates. They were big enough. She hid in a crevice between two of them, in the place beyond where the light reached when the door was open. The door slid shut and left her in quiet darkness. She tucked herself in close, hugging her knees and hiding her mouth against her sleeve.

Body grown, mind broken, she rocked in the dark like a child and quivered with the formless terrors of a child, and the woman within the child screamed in fear and despair.

The quiet was broken by the sound of steps against the deck plates. Her sleeve was wet from tears, but she kept silent.

_Let him pass by let him pass by let him pass by_

The door opened. She ducked her head down, hiding her eyes.

_**I'm not here I'm not here I'm not here!** _

She knew without looking that he was in the doorway, knew without needing to peek that the little circle of bright white light was searching the darkness, searching for her.

“Dearest sister,” the voice crooned. Her heart raced even faster.

_Be smaller, smaller, go away I'm not here_

“Come out, now, sweet sister. I only want to show you something.”

_No, no, no_

She wished she were dangerous. Strong and wild, with sharp claws and thick hide to protect her, to keep him away, to hurt him back. But she was powerless, as she always had been. Even when she had been able to order death on a whim it had not been the kind of power she needed.

“There you are.”

She whimpered.

His hand caressed the top of her head, and then he grabbed her by her hair, knotting his fingers in the raven tresses, and dragged her out of her hiding spot. Her hands flew to wrap around his wrist, just trying to reduce the pain. She knew she'd never pry his fingers loose. She bit her lip as she tried to contain her panicked cries.

“You're coming with me now.” The voice was no longer a croon and as he dragged her out into the hall she could see his white clothing and the sparkle of gold from his chains of office and the ornamentation he wore.

If it had been any other man she would have begged, pleaded, promised her body.

_Just give them what they want, get it over with, so they leave you alone_

Not _him_. He would laugh at such promises and then beat her all the more viciously, and the insults would fly just the same, as the blood from her stripes flew off his whip.

_I just want out, to get away, to hide and never be seen again_

He dragged her by her hair, down hall after hall and then into a very big chamber, big enough that his steps echoed. He grabbed her arm and hauled her up a short flight of steps, and then flung her down onto the cold metal floor.

“A gift, sweet little sister.” His tone was vicious as he tossed her the little circle of metal – the polished metal mirror he had given her before. “You know what you're to do.”

She stared at the mirror. She did not see herself, but a terrified little girl, bewildered and desperate.

“No.” Her words were only a whisper, but he heard her nonetheless.

“What did you say to me?” His voice was soft, almost lover like.

She shuddered but she tried again. “No. I won't. Do this.”

“Oh, you will. You won't be able to help yourself.”

Before she knew he was moving, he had hold of her hair again, and he yanked her head back. She cried out and he shoved something small into her mouth – a pill, bitter and hard against her tongue. She tried to spit it out, but he clapped his other hand over her mouth and nose. Their faces were inches apart, an obscene parody of lovers twined in passion.

“You are nothing but a whore who could not even complete the task she was given by our master,” he snarled, no longer playing with her, all the gentle mockery gone from him. “You have outlived your usefulness, _darling sister_ , but you will perform this last task.”

She tried to just let him hold her until she passed out, but he snarled and did something she couldn't rightly understand and she was swallowing, reflexively, and the pill went down her throat and then everything seemed like it was under water.

She opened her mouth to cry out, but nothing happened. He set his hands on either side of her head, forcing her to look at him.

“Now. You will act every inch like the smug bitch you are. You know what you must do. You will perform the ritual and invoke the mirror.”

She stared at him and tried to scream that she wouldn't do it.

“No...” Her whisper was a mere breath of sound.

His beautiful face twisted, and he snarled, “Perform your role, _courtesan_. Dance for me.”

The phrase crashed through her mind. Her body went still. Her voice was soft and demure. “As my master commands.”

She was nothing but a passenger, a bird in a cage. Her heart beat like wings and she wanted to cry, to run, to do anything but what he wanted. What had he done to her?

Her body stood up and straightened her clothing. The mirror was in her left hand, and he gave her the long pipe she had carried for so long. She held still as he took a cloth to her face, wiping away tears. “No time for touching up your appearance further,” he muttered to himself. “They're inside already.”

_I will not do this_

“I am ready.”

They came at her, the heroes. She welcomed them. The power of the mirror demanded blood and suffering and wails of despair. Her mind was twisted into the shapes it wanted, the shapes her brother had hoped for, the seductively dark thoughts of rage and revenge and hate.

But it was her own blood, her own wails that sated that hunger in the end.

She hung transfixed for an instant, everything draining away from her. All pain, all hate, everything. She collapsed, and a tiny smile fluttered across her lips. Freedom was in her grasp.

He was standing over her. She gazed up at him. He was such a small man. Why had she never realized that before? He was a petty little monster, pattering after the bigger monsters like some hideous puppy. He had no power over her, and she...she still held onto a fragment of the mirror and its magic. It cut into her hand as she smiled up at him.

She eviscerated him.

When he fell, she sighed, contented, tired.

Gosetsu would be sad. That was a shame. She could not tell him that she was relieved to be allowed to die. She had not had to resort to suicide. She would pass on with the tiny scrap of honor she still possessed.

It was enough.

 _Free_...

She closed her eyes, and let go.


End file.
